Helicopter
by Channel D
Summary: Gibbs is tormented by angst when his team goes missing on a mission overseas. Oneshot, will be expanded to a longer fic later.


**Helicopter**

**by channelD**

_written for:_ the NFA Skills Workshop. The theme was to write a fic with angst.  
_rating:_ K plus  
_principal character:_ Gibbs  
_genre:_ angst, drama  
_setting:_ NCIS, anytime  
_words:_ 949

_author's note:_ I've been talked into expanding this into a longer fic, but that won't happen until later this year.

- - - - -

_disclaimer_: Another day goes by, and still I own nothing of NCIS.

- - - - -

No matter what he did, which cold case he turned to (and he had four stacked on his desk), they were only seconds away in his mind.

"_I hope we're back by Sunday. I have plans—"_

"_Get going; the chopper's waiting!"_

That second voice was his own; he recognized it and remembered it. He put fingers to his lips to try to stem the memory, but that only encouraged the tears to try to escape. He blinked a few times, and they retreated.

"Jethro—" Jenny's voice was low and compassionate. "Are you sure you want to be here? Take some time off. I'll call you as soon as I hear anything."

"Just trying to do my job," Gibbs said gruffly. "You won't let me go look for them."

"The answer's still 'no'. Now, if you change your mind about taking leave, just see me." She walked off, a little slowly, as if she expected to be called back. But he didn't call her.

Back to the case file he had open. He read, _At the edge of the water—_

"_I forgot to water my plants! Gibbs—"_

"_You people! Yes, I'll see to them."_

"_Just once a week is all they need. You could—"_

What had she said? It had been hard to hear over the helicopter's powerful roar. They'd climbed onboard, the chopper had lifted off, and, looking down, Gibbs had a faint epiphany about the star symbol marking the helicopter pad. Something radiating in all directions. Members of a unit leaving "home" for distant places.

And then he'd turned and walked back into the NCIS Building, little knowing…

_"Jethro…" After a little disagreement this morning, he'd been surprised that she'd be calling him by his first name again so soon. But there was pain in her professional voice; pain, and…sympathy? "Jethro, the Army called me. The helicopter they'd taken in Kandahar…it was—"_

No matter how hard he tried, he found he could only remember parts of sentences. Each one cut his mind like a blade. And the scenes, the scenes that blew through his memory in gale force.

_"Boss, I—"_ _Lips moving, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. _

_It wasn't important then. What was important to him then was that they get going, that they rendezvoused with the military transport that they got to Afghanistan before the trail got cold. And he'd thought of all the work he could get done, in peace and quiet, with them gone._

_Them gone…_A tear fell on the case file, and, after noticing it, he wiped it up with a tissue. _Work on the case!_ he ordered himself, and he did somehow concentrate, for all of about two minutes.

The elevator dinged its arrival, and he looked up. _Not them… Well, of course it wouldn't be them, idiot. Get back to the case file._

He was not the type to second-guess his actions at work. Not with all his years in. You had to know your job, and be confident to go with your first hunch. That should go without saying. And yet…

The Army had been willing to do the mission. They'd only offered it to NCIS as a courtesy, since it involved two Marines suspected of espionage. Agents from NCIS' Contingency Response Field Office might have been a better choice, but they were tied up in training and wouldn't be able to leave for 48 hours. The situation demanded an immediate departure. Gibbs had been quick to volunteer his team; they'd been a little snippy toward each other lately, and he'd been eager to get them out of his hair.

_And so the Naval chopper had lifted off here, into a cloudless sky. When had it gone out of sight? He didn't know. He hadn't watched it; his mind had already been elsewhere._

- - - - -

_"Jethro, where do you think you're going?"_

_"You don't know me by now, Jen?"_

_"You are _not_ going to Afghanistan!"_

_He swore. "My team is missing there. I can't rely on the Army to move fast enough to find them, so I'm going to do it."_

_"It'll take you too long to get the passes, and I certainly won't sign off on them. Jethro, this isn't Iraq. This is another country; one you don't know. Leave it to the people who _do _know the country."_

It sounded logical, when she put it that way, but his heart wasn't listening. The hardest thing was just not knowing.

- - - - -

They were his team, they were in trouble, they might be dead. That happened so often with helicopter crashes, if that was what had happened. People often died. But reports could be wrong. And he could do nothing to help them: couldn't search for them, or get medical help for them, or be there to hold them as they took their last breaths.

_I'm their leader; they are my responsibility. I let them down. And I can't even remember their last words to me._

"Jethro, I'd like to see you down in Autopsy."

The words were a jolt, and he bolted upright, his eyes wild. But it was only Ducky, making a simple request. "I don't need a shrink, Duck. I'm fine."

"I might disagree with that. But I think you need a friend."

Gibbs looked away, his eyes watery again. "I don't take very good care of the friends I have."

Tutting, Ducky took his arm. "Let's talk about it."

"_Jethro, wait!"_ Jenny flew down the stairs to the bullpen; her face alive with emotion. "The SECNAV just called. Their helicopter has been found."

"And?"

- END -


End file.
